Gloom

Chapter 2

I woke up past midnight.

She hadn't had the need to take the tasteless pills; She was so exhausted that I didn't even realize the moment I fell asleep with the television on, showing a program she didn't know.

The atmosphere in the room was very cold, as if a draft of frigid air had slipped in from somewhere. I immediately put my hands in front of my lips and tried to cover them with my own breath. I rubbed my arms in a vain attempt to raise my body temperature a bit.

At that moment, the loud but high-pitched meow of a cat made me jump.

I recognized that the noise had come from the courtyard and went to see what happened, feeling somewhat uneasy. Opening the back door, I found Nico, my mother's Siamese cat, in a ball of bristly hair as he hissed at nowhere in particular. I searched the fenced space with my eyes, looking for some other animal or something that would have made him complain like that, but I found nothing.

"Come in," I called, waving my fingers at him. Come on, Nico.

The cat stood there, motionless, its eyes wide like huge blue marbles, its fur standing up. He was scared, which, I don't know why, made a faint fear take over me too.

I bent down to pick him up and we walked into the house together, wondering what could have scared him like that. I set it down on his little bed, and reached over to stroke his thick fur that looked like cream-colored fluff. He didn't let me touch him, he got angry and scratched me. The pain made me hiss.

-Hey! -I complained. Nico hissed in response, baring his pointed teeth. Bad boy!

I rubbed the small wound that had been left on my wrist. I was surprised by his behavior because he was not an aggressive animal, in fact he was quite docile and even lazy. I shrugged, not giving it much importance.

And then I turned around...

… only to find myself facing a pair of strange gray eyes, in a face as pale as snow.

I felt as if all the blood in my body was falling at my feet. I couldn't move a single muscle.

My heart stopped as I stared, stunned, at the bare-chested man directly in front of me. Suddenly, the corners of his lips turned up in a smile that seemed familiar to me.

It was the same one I saw on the face of the man who followed me hours ago. But, this time, he revealed the whitest teeth he had ever seen.

A fascinating gesture. Some sharp fangs, almost ending in a point.

A wicked smile.

"Hello, Amy," he said slowly.

Who the fuck was this guy?! And how did he get into my house ?!

I nearly screamed, but a hand clamped around my throat in time to stop me.

I managed to hear the cat hiss for the last time, and then I saw him flee like a bullet until he was lost in some corner of the house.

“ Amy Masters …” the stranger holding my neck murmured, still a mad grin on his pale face. Her voice was very deep, imposing...  Intimidating . A voice that sent a shiver of pure terror down my spine.

I wasn't completely choking, I could still breathe, but that didn't stop the panic from taking over me to the point that I couldn't even move. My frantic heartbeat was pounding in my ears. I was terrified,  terribly  terrified, and too confused.

His rare gray eyes observed my face for eternal seconds. Then her smile faded.

"I'm going to ask you a couple of questions and I want you, for your sake, to answer with the complete truth," he continued. I want to know if you are adopted.

I blinked several times, in fear and bewilderment. A shaky gasp escaped my lips.

"Wh-what?"

- What if you're adopted! she bellowed, her voice hoarse and anger etched into her expression.

At that moment, I felt how his hand tightened even more on my neck.

-No! she screamed, horrified.

His eyes swept over every inch of my face, his expression incredibly stern.

"So you're a witch?" she insisted impatiently. Or do you have any witch relatives?

Even though I was so scared that all I wanted to do was cry, I frowned. I didn't understand anything about what was happening.

" What...?"

-You are deaf? Suddenly, and her upper lip drew back in an angry scowl. Reply!

“N-no… I don't know! I got desperate, my breathing accelerated greatly. How the hell am I supposed to know?!

" I need  to know," he mumbled, holding my throat with increasing force.

-What's the matter? I'm not a witch, dammit! What do you want…? My voice trailed off.

My God, he didn't even believe in witches! 

I saw his jaw clench in anger, but then he gave a half smile that terrified me.

"Maybe your mother does know..."

Out of nowhere, a spark ignited in me.

"Don't go near her," I replied, trying as hard as I could, surprised by the courage that rose in my chest.

-Oh no? She smiled mockingly. What will you do to stop it?

I swallowed. Terror blanked my mind and I couldn't reply. At that moment, dominated by the fear that ran through my entire system, I acted out of inertia.

I used all my strength and tried to hit him in the pit of the stomach. But as I did, I felt a twinge in my wrist, as if I had hit the wall instead of him. The man in front of me didn't even flinch; however, at last he released me and I stumbled away.

I quickly scanned the space around me for something to defend myself with. The small decorative vase on the break table was the only thing I could think of that could serve as a weapon, I could throw it at him or stun him with it. I took it without thinking twice.

When I turned to face him, a new smile had spread on his face.

-What are you trying to do? Her," she inquired in a tone that seemed mocking to me. Did you want to attack me?

The heat from before, brought on by courage, disappeared. My punch did absolutely nothing to him. The blood froze in my veins in a heartbeat.

"Mom..." a small voice whispered in my mind. "Call her, scream! Do something!".

But I dismissed the idea immediately. He wasn't going to yell or run for her help and put her in danger. She had to, however she could, protect her from this cursed man. My heart was pounding furiously against my ribs, and I realized my knees were shaking. Pure and raw fear, both for me and for my mother who must still be asleep upstairs, left me almost motionless, not knowing how to react to such a situation.

I did not know what to do. The only thing I managed to do was back away slowly, with the vase in my hands as my only weapon. Would he make it to the kitchen for a knife or would he catch me before I got there?

The man in front of me was watching me through narrowed eyes, his expression very stern. He did not seem at all hesitant to reduce with a sure step the distance that I was trying to put between us. I began to hyperventilate as I desperately tried to plan what to do to save my mother and me from this guy, when a hoarse whisper from him broke the silence:

"What kind of  creature  are you?"

I frowned. In the midst of the terrible dread that she felt, a slight uncertainty arose. did i hear right? What kind of "creature"  was I?

He continued to move towards me with unnatural calm. He looked at me from head to toe without blinking, and in a way so fixed it was almost disturbing. It wasn't until that moment that I realized the television was still on. Just then, the fear that he already felt increased even more inside me, because it was in that precise period that the device began to make strange noises. And a second later, the screen totally changed to that gray color with black dots, emitting a hideous screeching noise.

I felt my heartbeat stop.

And, in that instant, as if to test my sanity even more, what I thought was something like a cloak of fluffy black fabric that fell down her back,  moved . My eyes widened, because whatever was on the back of her body slowly grew and began to spread. I felt my head spin for a second, when I realized that the strange mass that unfurled on her back was  wings … A pair of huge black wings, full of feathers.

I had the feeling that I was going to faint. The plaster object in my hands slipped and crashed to the floor. My lungs didn't work the way they should. My heart was about to jump out of my throat.

-That…? I whispered breathlessly. What…a-are you?

He , the strange fellow in front of me with formidable black wings stopped short. His brow furrowed further as his unusual eyes looked me up and down.

"My name is Azazziel," he said, his voice thick and very clear. And I'm only telling you this because I want you to remember it, and remember it well, do you understand? —His tone changed to being surly,  fierce  , and then he added visibly annoyed—: And I'm nothing  , insolent. I am a demon.

An inaudible gasp escaped my lips.

For what felt like forever, I couldn't breathe, couldn't move. It was as if my body and my mind had disconnected. I shook my head, as if that would help me absorb the words that had come out of his mouth. A demon…?

A DEMON?!

What was on its back, those…  wings , fluttered again, and a shiver of genuine terror ran down my spine. This was unreal, it wasn't true. Could not! It had to be another one of my horrible nightmares.

He took a step forward, and I took another step back. The corners of his lips turned up in a half smile.

"Calm down, girl, I'm not going to hurt you..." he said, with a gesture full of mischief. For now.

-That…? I swallowed hard. She couldn't believe that she was trying to talk to him. What do you w-want?

"Do you always stutter like that?" She ignored my question, and the mockery in her smile deepened. Or only when you're scared to death?

My eyes widened more than usual, stunned by the sudden serenity that had come over her face. However, a small vestige of anger grew inside my chest as I realized that he was laughing at me.

"What the fuck do you want?" I demanded, this time with the firmest voice.

His gray eyes traveled the length of my body cautiously, making me feel uncomfortable, but he didn't answer me. For several seconds, a torturous span, I couldn't do anything but look at him. And, at the same time, feeling like I could faint at any moment. What could he do? The fear felt so palpable inside me that it began to make it difficult for me to breathe.

I started to hyperventilate when, from afar, the roar of a car reached my ears. My pulse raced wildly with anticipation.

"Anthony!" .

The terrifying and strange individual in front of me looked up over my head, and narrowed his eyes.

"Looks like your brother ruined the fun…" he muttered.

I shook my head desperately.

"Please don't hurt him. —I couldn't hide my anguish, because the concern for what he could do to my brother was bigger than my fear of him.

The guy raised an eyebrow and slowly shook his head.

"I'm not interested in your brother in the slightest," he said in that thick tone, and pointed at me with a nod. He is you who I want.

I swallowed hard, sensing the tremor of pure fear that ran through me.

Then, without saying anything else, he turned his back on me and walked straight to the back door, the one that opened onto the patio. I was able to appreciate well the excessive length of its enormous black wings, identical to those of the crows, so large that they brushed the ground. I felt another dizziness again.

Opening the door, he turned his head to look over his shoulder at me. He smiled confidently again and I felt my heart stop, almost at the same time as the sound of the car engine outside.

My fists clenched in helplessness, confusion, and fear.

"I'll see you soon, Amy," he said. I felt a kind of ice run through my veins when she called my name.

And he went into the dark backyard.

I jumped when the door slammed shut, without him even touching it.

I didn't move from there. I didn't sigh in relief. I took no action other than staring at the wood of the door through which he left. I held very still as he breathed slowly, trying to control my heartbeat and recover. I was barely aware that the TV was back to normal.

With blank thoughts, I listened intently to every nearby noise, but I could only hear Anthony's footsteps passing through the porch and then entering the house.

My heart was still pounding as I turned to look at him, wide-eyed.

-Shit! He exclaimed the moment our eyes met. What are you doing there? I almost had a fucking heart attack, what's wrong with you?

I shook my head in an attempt to wake up, and ignored his question. She was still dazed, bewildered…  Too terrified.

I glanced back at the back door, and for some unknown reason—perhaps slightly emboldened by the urge to protect my brother—I headed out into the yard without hesitation.

-What the hell…? I heard Anthony ask. Why are you so weird?

I had to make sure that that…  creature  was gone. I needed to confirm that he and my mom were safe. A little late, I realized that it was a very stupid thing of me to have gone after him. If that guy hadn't left, what would he have done?

I looked everywhere, looking for him in the darkness of that enclosed space, but there was no one there.

The soul returned to my body. I sighed in relief. A wave of comfort warmed my system, especially since my mother hadn't woken up, even with all the noise. However, that fact made me feel insecure at the same time.

-What happened to you? Anthony asked, noticing my expression. He looks like he saw a fucking ghost. Her sight of him traveled to the floor, to the mess he'd made with the vase, and he shook his head. Mom will kill you for this.

I nodded without encouragement. That was the least important thing to me at the moment.

“It was an…accident.” My voice was high-pitched, still consumed by fear.

He rubbed his arms briskly and huffed.

"Why is it so cold in here?" —She claimed, approaching the air conditioner to make sure it was working properly.

I pursed my lips. I didn't know what to answer him. I hastened to clean up the remains of the broken vase, moving awkwardly because I still couldn't control the trembling in my hands.

"Clumsy," Anthony muttered, as he went upstairs to his room.

I clenched my fists. The feeling of dread flooded my system when I was left alone in the living room again, so it took me less than a minute to turn off all the lights and storm upstairs. But I couldn't calm down.

At those moments, my own home seemed totally alien to me. dangerous .

I had to make sure that my mother was safe before I could enter my room. Strange as it was though, I was grateful that she didn't wake up at all. I shuddered at the thought that she had come down to my rescue and found that…  thing . I didn't even want to brood about it.

With the light on, I jumped into my bed. I pulled the blanket up to my head like a child, squeezed my eyes shut and prayed that sleep would take me as quickly as possible.

I hallucinated , I tried to force myself to convince myself, to drive away my own fear. "It wasn't real. It couldn't be. It was a hallucination."

I muttered something rude, remembering that I left the sleeping pills on the first floor, and started doing breathing exercises so I could calm down for once. He had to sleep,  he had  to. I needed to enter the plane of unconsciousness as quickly as possible to forget what had happened.

But, to my regret, for the next few hours I couldn't do it. It was impossible for me not to stop thinking about what happened. After a while, a small part of my brain began to entertain the idea that maybe it had all been some kind of delusion from lack of sleep.

Only when dawn came, I could finally feel that there was no longer any danger. For some reason, the fact that it was already daylight gave me a sense of calm that didn't make sense. But seeing the first rays of the sun entering through my window, the one facing the street, managed to finally make me breathe more serenely.

I didn't work on Sundays, so I made an effort to rush sleep and sleep, even if it was only for an hour or two. But then the memories came back to me. I swallowed saliva and summoned all my strength not to continue torturing myself with the image of that gloomy subject.

As expected, my mother came into my room early to call me out for the damn vase I broke, but that was not what shocked me: it was learning that she had no idea what had happened so long ago. just a few hours ago.

Could it be possible? She didn't find out a single thing about what happened? She heard absolutely nothing, as if it hadn't really happened.

Or as if I had imagined everything.

Sitting on my bed, with my back against the wooden headboard, I drew my knees up to my chest and hugged them. I wasn't like this because of my mother's scolding, but because I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened… I couldn't stop thinking about  him .

The attempt to convince myself that it had been a delusion due to the bad prolonged rest was not enough to calm me down. The last words that guy said to me echoed through my mind, over and over again. That  "I'll see you soon"  seemed to be a promise that he planned to keep very soon.

I bit the inside of my cheek restlessly. My gaze traveled to every corner of the room, as if that could give me the answer to something, something I didn't even know I was looking for. I fixed my eyes on the top drawer of my dresser, and a suggestive voice went through my head. Could it be that they were still there?

I stood up, walked over to the cabinet, and opened the drawer. I searched through my clothes until I found the objects that my memories had indicated to me: a wooden rosary, and a small glass bottle with transparent liquid with a little cross painted on it; both things had been given to me by my mother in those days when she still accompanied her to church. It had been years since she had set foot in that place, mainly because she hated listening to the priest's words, and because there was no mass in which she didn't fall asleep. And, at a certain age, that began to be frowned upon.

I sighed.

A part of me laughed at the idea that was beginning to form in my mind. I felt ridiculous clutching the objects to my chest, as if I really believed they were some kind of salvation. I was never attached to the church like my mother and, in fact, for me those were nothing more than objects that characterized the religion to which I belonged. They had no greater importance than that... Until yesterday.

I placed both items on the nightstand, making sure they were within quick reach, and went downstairs to eat breakfast. And it is that, despite my own internal complaints, something told me that, sooner or later, I was going to have to use them.

I focused on trying to do something productive in the afternoon, so I helped mom with the housework. I didn't want to think about or remember the incident of the strange winged man, because hallucination though it had been, the memory of the encounter made me shudder. So I forced myself to keep busy.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and that eased my anxiety. At least, in good part. Diana called and texted me until I deigned to answer her. She blamed me for not having a good time because she was worried about me. So, I wanted to hit myself when, in the middle of the conversation, I mentioned by accident that I had seen the supposed  boy she said, following me on the street. However—out of sheer embarrassment—I made sure not to bring up the subject of my dark hallucination.

He wasn't going to mention it to her, or to anyone. never . My sense of sanity told me that if I revealed it to anyone, anyone, I would go straight to a psychiatric hospital.

When we were done with chores, my mother went out to see a friend of hers, and I stayed with Anthony, whose company was akin to being home alone. I locked myself in my room, and I couldn't help it; the lack of homework made my head wander again about my delirium. So, still unable to shake off the uncertainty and fear, I turned on the laptop and searched for each of the articles related to the word " Demon . "

I felt stupid, especially since most of the pages seemed to be nothing more than nonsense. However, of those that were supposed to be serious, they all matched the same description: spirits or supernatural beings that were the personification of evil in different beliefs and cultures.

It was amazing to come across forums where people were so fascinated by the topic that they even tried to invoke one themselves. I shuddered. I never had anything to do with any of that. I never played  Ouija  or anything like that for  "fun"  since, to tell the truth, I was quite a coward and everything that had to do with it terrified me. I wouldn't even risk watching the horror movies Diana was so excited about.

I lost myself in looking for whatever could throw him out of my house, but most of the people who supposedly knew about the subject, advised to call a priest or an exorcist to scare away the evil presence. That she shouldn't face it alone for any reason.

" Why do you keep looking?" I the voice in my head, almost scolding me. "You know it wasn't real."

I frowned. It was true, I couldn't keep looking for stupid information on the internet. That only managed to fill my head with psychosis and scare me more.

"None of that happened. You freaked out. You only imagined it . "

Out of sheer instinct, I felt my neck, remembering that  he  had held his hand to that area. I felt no pain at all. My mother hadn't heard of the apparent attack either, so that was a confirming clue, too. On the other hand, that made me think that the safest thing about the whole situation was that I was really going crazy. A complete lunatic at nineteen. And that wasn't much better. That choice was both frightening and sad.

I slammed the device shut and flung myself on the bed. It wasn't long before sleep gradually began to take over me. I had been sleeping badly for so many nights, that there was no time in which I did not feel exhausted, so I took advantage of every moment to get a little sleep.

I don't know how much time passed, when a sweet smell began to seep into my room from the first floor, waking me up. I knew that my mother was already at home. I got up lazily and went down with the same little energy. When I got to the kitchen, the delicious aroma grew stronger and I discovered her with flour-stained clothes, stirring something in a bowl with a wooden spoon. Something was baking.

I waved at her and she smiled at me, her brown eyes crinkling a little at the corners.

-What are you doing? I inquired outlining a smile, approaching her.

"Guess," he crooned.

The strong smell of chocolate and the brownish mass that I stirred so much gave me a signal. Her spirits had risen remarkably and I immediately understood why. I only had to remember my father's favorite post to confirm it.

"Chocolate cake," I said confidently. Is dad coming soon?

-Yeah! Her,” she squealed, very animated. Tomorrow early.

I chuckled slightly.

-Smells good.

-Thanks love. She turned her head to kiss me on the cheek. Sometimes her mom was so enthusiastic that she looked younger. There were times when I wished that she had inherited a little of all that joy and positivity that she always exuded.

I gave him another smile before heading into the living room. Anthony was sitting on the sofa, his head propped up on one hand, trying to read the huge book on his lap. I saw him yawn about three times in less than five minutes.

"You must be very bored," I commented under my breath.

He jumped at the sound of me, and then cursed under his breath.

"Stop doing that,  weirdo  ," he muttered. You're going to kill me one of these days.

It wasn't that Anthony was skittish—at least, he wasn't any more than I was. In general, people almost never noticed my presence when they arrived at a site. It had helped me feel like I was invisible throughout my life.

-What do you study? I wanted to know.

"Nothing that matters to you."

“I haven't seen Jessica. Did they break up again?

"No," he replied nonchalantly. Then a wrinkle crossed his brow. She doesn't want to come, she's upset.

I bit my lip uncomfortably.

"Maybe if you stopped flirting with other girls, he wouldn't bother anymore..."

-Did you hear that? she asked, cupping a hand to his ear. No? Exact. No one asked for your opinion.

I frowned. Most of the time I used to be seen as nosy.

He returned his attention to the thick book, indexing each line as he read along. Reading bored him and he did that to concentrate.

Even though we were twins, Anthony and I were polar opposites. Not only because of our personality, but also physically. He knew it was due to the fact that we were just that:  twins , not identical twins. But still we were supposed to have some resemblance, right? Anthony was like a younger version of Dad, with the same pale blue eyes and brown hair. He was taller than me and he maintained the jock body he'd earned from playing soccer and basketball during high school. He remembered how often the girls in high school would come up to me just to get me to introduce them to my brother.

Instead, I had dark hair like my mother's. But instead of inheriting her brown eyes or Dad's blue, mine were so black that a couple of eye doctors had thought she had  aniridia ; that is to say, it had no irises. However, no exam revealed anything strange in my genes nor did I present visual problems. My parents said that the curious color of my eyes could have been inherited from the family of my father's biological father, a man who abandoned him, my aunt Hannah and my grandmother, when they were just children. Nobody talked about that man, and the few memories Dad had of his face didn't do him justice. But he remembered that he had dark eyes…

After dinner, I went back to my room to see if I could sleep early. I snuggled into the blankets to appease the cold that began to take over the environment. I didn't have to exert much effort, since I fell into a calm and tired sleep almost as soon as I closed my eyes.

A deafening crash echoed outside, echoing off the walls of my room, jolting me awake. The noise was so loud and sudden that I jumped, my heart racing. Only then, when the fright woke me from the lethargy of sleep, was I aware of the insistent sound of the rain on the roof.